Conversations
by Zlhna
Summary: A series of conversations that I would have liked to happen in the books. Not necessarily sequential and no real plot. Bella/Jacob Rated T, just in case I eventually use stronger language/themes
1. Chapter 1 Considerations

**A/N- Yes, this is a conversation between Edward and Bella, and yes they are lovey-dovey in it, but Rome wasn't built in a day! Note the subtle Jacob references. All disclaimers apply.**

Considerations

"What were you like when you were 17?" I asked, my fingers sifting through his hair slowly. His eyes were closed in contentment, and his head was on my lap.

"You know what I'm like," he mumbled serenely.

"No, I mean, when you were _really _17." I clarified. He grimaced. "When you were human."

"We don't remember much of our human existences," he said quietly.

"But you must remember _something_," I prodded.

In one fluid movement, he was seated facing me on the bed, my hand still hovering over where his hair had been.

"Why does it matter, love?" his hand stroked my cheek before it fell into his lap heavily as he sighed, "After all, you'll never get to meet him."

My face must have conveyed my confusion. Could he really have been that different, as to consider his human self an entirely different person?

"I had red hair," he began, "not this coppery shade. I assure you, being a redhead was entirely unfashionable in my youth." My finger twisted around the end of my braid subconsciously.

"I had pretty bad skin as an adolescent, and was picked on a lot of the time. Even after I grew out of it, even after I grew eight inches in the course of a single year and gained some muscle weight, I felt like I would be that blemished, skinny kid forever.

"My mother made me take piano lessons. She loved the instrument, but had always been too poor to own one or afford a teacher. She scraped the pennies together so that I could learn, and every week I'd go into town by myself and spend two hours working on scales and learning simple tunes. The teacher told me I'd never really amount to much as a musician, but it would break my mother's heart if she knew. She never actually heard me play, so I let her believe what she wanted to."

"But you're amazing," I interrupted. "You play pieces better than the composers themselves could."

He smiled sadly. "Yes, love. _Now _I can, augmented by the supernatural. She dreamed I'd go to school adn study the piano. I wanted to go into the army. Turns out neither happened."

"I can't imagine you in the miliraty." I said, cocking my head to the side, trying to imagine him in uniform, and knowing he'd look like an Adonis no matter what he was wearing, even if that meant camo and face paint.

"The army was a chance to do something important. Everyone was signing up. Everyone believed in the cause. I believed I was going to be a hero. All I ever wanted for my life was to do something meaningful." He was looking down at my quilt, and sat very, very still as he said in a low voice, "And now all I do is re-live high school for eternity."

I stared at him for a moment before slowly creeping towards him, settling myself within the circle of his arms. "How many times have you saved my life now? You _are_ a hero."

He looked at me with empty eyes. "And how many times have I been the one to put your life in danger? How many times have I acted for what _I_ wanted, and _not_ for what was your best interest?"

"Being with you _is_ in my best interest," I assured him, and pressed my lips to his stone temple.

There was a pause before he asked, "What do you want to be when you're an adult?"

"A vampire," I replied, without a hesitation.

He smiled weakly. "Really, love. When you were little, what did you want to be?"

I thought about it for a moment. What _didn't_ I want to be? A teacher (my mother inspired that one), a ballerina (that dream died the day I enrolled in class), an astronaught (until I realized I was claustrophobic), a waitress (but all those broken plates...), a chef, a dogwalker, writer, publisher, college professor...

"I don't know," I finally replied. "Nothing really stuck."

"There are so many possibilities for you. Do you see what kind of potential you have? You can become anything. Why would you want to give that up?"

"Because you mean more to me than all of that," I whispered. I could feel the conversation turning to a more serious place than I wanted to go. "Please," I begged, "let's not have this conversation again. You know how I feel."

"I know how you feel about me. But you need to understand the consequences of this existence."

"Who doesn't want eternal life with the person they love?"

"Do you really want to amount to nothing? To have time _mean_ nothing? You will never grow, never change ever again. You'll never see your children. After a time, there is very little that you haven't experienced- very few things to look forward to, nothing that surprises you anymore. I was utterly bored with everything in this world until I met you, Bella." His eyes were fierce and his tone grew darker. "I don't have a life, I have a hell. Bella, you're the only good thing in it, and I don't want to pull you into this fire with me."

I could feel the heat of tears behind my eyes, trying to push their way out. "I don't want to be without you."

"You don't have to be." He tucked me more securely in his arms "Live. Live, and I will always be here for you."

I shook my head with an angry laugh, "And what? Let my skin sag and my bones grow frail and have people mistake you for my son? My _grandson_? No, thank you."

"Why is the promise of myself not enough for you?"

"You won't want me when I'm old."

"That would never happen. You'll always be changing. You'll always be something new and different for me to discover and love."

I shook my head. I couldn't believe that he wanted me now, I certainly couldn't believe he'd want me when I was even less desirable.

"It'd be no different than if we grew old together. Then, just as now, I would be devoted to you, and love you, and always find you attractive. It's no different, Bella."

"It _is _different." I grumbled. "What even keeps you with me now?"

"Love." He said simply, as if there could be no other answer. As if he had already told me a thousand times (and he had).

"I can't offer you anything. I slow you down. You could have someone far more beautiful or graceful or talented..."

"I want _you._" He caught my chin between his finders, and steadied my face so that my eyes were gazing into his. "I do not love you because of what you do _for _me; it's what you do _to_ me. You make me a better person. You make me feel like I'm actually living. You force me to go outside of myself and connect with the world, see the world in a different way. Only you are capable of inspiring that in me."

That begged the question that I was grateful he didn't ask- why did I love him? Because he saved me, because he was innately good, because he was strong and intelligent and compassionate and I was uncontrollably attracted to him. Everything felt surreal when he was arround- like I might wake up from it at any moment. But what did he inspire me to be? I couldn't think about that. I needed to convince him, to make him understand how deeply I felt that we were meant to be together for all of time. That an unequal relationship of mortal and god could never be enough for me.

"Someday you'll have to be without me. If I grow old, I'll die. And then what?"

"You know what. I'll go back to Italy."

"So my death will kill you, too? How can I live with that guilt? I would become a vampire if only to prevent your suicide."

"And I would have your body die than kill your soul and chance at eternal life."

"I don't want heaven if you're not in it!"

He shook his head and put his face in his hand, smoothing his already pristine eyebrows. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Don't I?"

"Bella, I long to die." The desire in his voice was overwhelming, and I leaned away from him, a little afraid. "Having met you, I count myself lucky that Carlisle made the choice that he did, but before you, before this year, only loyalty to my family and fear of pain kept me from seeking out the Volturi and ending it all. Now, here with you, I would trade anything if I could live a normal, mortal life by your side, and someday look forward to death."

"_Look_ _forward_ to death?"

"I exist in an abyss. The horizon goes on for eternity. You don't' know what that's like. The fountain of youth is a curse. You don't want this life sentence."

"I know what I want," I said quietly.

"What you want _now_. What you want this year and next and maybe even for the first fifty, but how can you know you'll want it when you're three thousand years old?"

"I will always want you."

"Me, and nothing else? You don't want anything else out of this life?"

"No! I mean, yes, but..." I paused. "You're the only thing I want." Even as I said it, I knew it wasn't exactly true. If he was all I wanted then I wouldn't care if I was old and saggy, as long as I had him. I wouldn't feel my heart being pulled out of my chest every time I left that beat-up hand-built garage on La Push. I wouldn't feel guilty whenever I talked to my parents and I wouldn't imagine the friends Angela and I could have been if I was sticking around and actually put in some effort.

"I don't think I can handle that responsibility," he said, snapping me out of my reverie. "I don't think I can be your only source of happiness for eternity. I want to share in all the joy in your life, to increase it where I can. But to be the _sole executor_ of eternal happiness...it's more than any single person can do."

"Isn't that what you're asking of me?" I peered up at him. I didn't like where this conversation was going. What were we deciding? It was being decided too fast.

"So it seems," he said, self-realization dawning across his features. He looked down at me.

I asked slowly, "Do you think that I can make you happy forever? Just me. Nothing else?"

He looked away as he thought, and I found myself growing terrified at the answer. My heart would break if he said 'No,' confirming every fear that I had that I was not enough. At the same time, what would I do if he said 'yes'? I could barely accept that I made him happy now. What if he held me up as the only thing that could ever make him happy? How could I shoulder that weight? I didn't want to have to be everything for him, but I wanted to be with him through everything.

"I will always love you," he said solemnly, not really answering the question. "And you will always be the brightest star in my life of night."

"But..." I could feel the inevitable conjunction.

"...But I _have_ made you everything. This life holds nothing else for me. And look at what it's doing to you. Look at what it's doing to us." He gently twisted the ring that was on my fourth finger. "I'm sucking the life out of you." He chuckled darkly. "Forgive the pun. But you don't have any friends... not human ones at least. You are abandoning your parents, your mother who used to be the world to you. I'm alienating you from the dog, your best friend. You'll never be able to get a job, or settle anywhere. I will be denying you the joy of children and grandchildren. You'll be stuck in the cold and dark when you thrive in the sun. How is this healthy? How is this actually loving you?"

I was trembling, and I clung to him tighter. "What are you saying?"

"I told you I would never leave you again like I did last fall, and I won't. But I want you to really think about the choice you are making. Think about the cost."

"But I love you. How could I choose anything but you?"

"You're 18, Bella; many people would ask instead, how can you not choose your family, your friends, your Jacob," he cringed at the name, "all the other loves in your life? Do I outweigh _everything, everyone_ else? There is _nothing_ worth staying alive for?" He looked at me for a moment, before adding, "It would frighten me if I was the _only_ thing in this world you loved; that you could give up everything else so easily."

I didn't know what to say. I felt like a blanket of concrete had been laid over my shoulders. The choice was inevitable. For the first time in my life, I couldn't find some way to work it out and have everything.

He picked me up and pulled back the covers, tucking me in gently. Then he leaned over and pressed his lips softly against my hair. I turned my head and pulled his mouth to mine. He leaned over me at first, slowly sinking onto the bed, and allowing some of his weight to rest on me. He kissed me more deeply than I can ever remember before, but I didn't feel myself go dizzy. I didn't forget the choice that lay ahead of me. When the kiss was over, I didn't press for more. I simply rolled over, buried my face in the pillow, and asked him to shut the window on his way out. I was cold.


	2. Chapter 2 Choices

"God, you are so _selfish_! Do you honestly ever think of _anyone _besides yourself?" Jacob's hands were gripping his cropped hair, threatening to pull it all out in frustration.

I had been opening the door of my beloved, beat-up truck and froze when I heard his words. My eyes flashed to his face and I said coldly, "How can you say that? Whom else should I consult when deciding _whom to give my heart to_?" My eyes became wells, but I tried to hold it together as I told him, "I know which choice is more convenient, I know what would make everyone else happy, I know which is more 'dazzling' and what is practical," my voice raised as I listed each, "but give me some time to know my own damn heart!" I slammed the truck door, but it didn't latch, and bounced back at me. I tried again, and a third time, I could feel my face becoming redder and redder with anger until finally I gave it a feeble kick.

I looked up as a heard Jacob's low, rumbling chuckle. His arms were folded across his chest, and he looked like he was trying to remain angry, but he couldn't bite back a small smile at my ridiculousness. It was difficult to maintain the venomous look I was shooting him when his smile was so contagious and I could feel it catch on my face.

"Don't make me laugh when I'm trying to be angry with you!" But it was too late. I heaved a sigh and followed Jacob to the porch steps, where I collapsed heavily next to him and leaned my head on his arm.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked with a small voice.

"I want you to choose me."

It was always so easy for Jacob. So clear-cut what the right answer was. I looked at his determined face and challenged, "Even if I'm not certain? Would you run the risk of me regretting my decision and longing for _him_ while I'm with you?"

I saw the pain wash across his face. Maybe that was harsh for me to say, but that was the reality. It would be worse for all of us if I made a rash decision and we all had to live with the unfortunate consequences. Hadn't I already brought enough pain into my best friend's life?

"No, I wouldn't," he replied.

"Then don't _rush _me," I said, my tone trying to be playful as I punched his arm. But neither of us could escape the gravity of the situation. I softened again and laid my head on his chest, and his arms encircled y waist, pulling me closer and burying his face in my hair. "When I'm with you," I said against his skin, "I am 100% _with_ you. I don't want to be anywhere else."

He hesitated before asking, "And when you're with him?"

I was a bad person. How could I have it so good as to have both Edward and Jacob after me? "Don't ask what you're not prepared to know."

"What about when you're alone, then?"

"I am rarely alone," I said, more to myself, with something sad in my tone. It was true. When did I even have time anymore to think for myself, without the influence of one or another of my choices?

"He gets so much more time with you then I do. It's not fair." I smiled, Jacob sounding like a pouting 2-year-old. Sometimes I needed to remember he was just a boy- only 16- although he walked with the weight of the world (my world, at least) on his shoulders.

"And even though that's the case, you're still 50% of my heart. What does that tell you?"

"That given a chance, I could have his half, too."


End file.
